Wrong Man For The Wrong Job
by Vortex Inferno
Summary: What better way to be kicked down then being forced into the guard? Administrator Aramain is about to be given such treatment but in a dark future filled with war it is often the little men who become histories greatest heroes......
1. Chapter 1

"What's going on Aramain" asked? He watched as the column of strange scaled elephant creatures marched on in a pen of some sorts with various chipping and whirling sounds coming from within.

"Lets just say although they may seem more primitive then an ork stuck on a catachan backwater but they are damn resourceful".

Before he could ask what he meant he saw the first beast plod out of the holding area. It had now been nailed together with various pieces of hillbilly armour covering the vital spots. Its great tusks now were in cased in steal with various sharp implements prodding outward from them and on top of that a battle cannon lay on top of its hide. On its sides two troughs were held by chains possible being transport carriers.

Maximus motioned for him to follow on still hidden by their cameo and the foliage around them. It may have itched and made the most uncomfortable pair of pants he ever wore but it even fooled the ever watchful mutants.

He crawled on his belly keeping the rifle just in front of him merely a few inches behind Maximus.

He could feel the dirt slide under him and the various insects crawl over and under him. This wasn't a time to be squeamish he mentally shouted at himself I've got to find out what's going on.

They came upon the next spot what Maximus referred to as the blacksmiths. It was a shack cobbled together by pieces of steel and wood perhaps from an old house?

Huge portions of smoke billowed from a makeshift chimney and again sounds of buzz saws whirling and tools at work could be heard cutting through his ears. There was a cart outside that was pulled by what seemed to be hairless giant wolfs each slobbering and feral as if eager to pounce some unfortunate creature that unluckily passed them.

One cocked its ear slightly towards them its jaw jittering with malice and vile intention. Had it sensed them? Did it know they were there? Before it could trace them a mutant, a big one whose face was melted and twisted threw a sack of weapons on the back of it before jumping on and shouting at the things to move which they did with due speed kicking up the stones and dust along the way.

He made sure not to sigh his relief less he give away their position.

"Dire wolfs" Maximus said still staring at the blacksmiths "they're the main harass unit of their arsenal". "Damn fast and keen, the riders are quite the shots". "Those things you saw back there are called mastodons, beasts of burden". "I've only ever seen them used once" he said slowly as if trying to think back his eyes frowned intensely "but its never been known for them to be so heavily armed not with a ballistic weapon anyway".

"What does that mean then"? Maximus looked to Aramain for a few second yet his eyes passed him as if the answer was obvious.

"They're finally going to attack the governors stronghold" he said his voice held both resent and happiness.

While the PDF had personal training from the governor himself and brought to war the best weapons of all the factions they lack the experience and indeed loyalty the others had. They relied on mass volleys and destructive brute force to win their battles. Against the mutants they would face a foe who not only had an unorthodox array of equipment and units but also one that had much more confidence in it.

It would be a evenly fought battle and much blood would be spilled on both sides but there was no doubt that whoever won the rebels would be the ones to feel the wrath of the victors.

"We'll go back to base and inform them of what's happening……"

I guess it would be better to start from the beginning of this whole thing seeing as you don't really understand what's going on. My name is Aramain as I've said and I am a member of the Loban fist a rebel faction against the imperium. I wasn't always a rebel of course I once had a peaceful life pushing pencils in my little cramped office on the agricultural world of Geddi prime. Away from the action and torment of the guard it was my important duty to order the requisitions of new loads of regulation boots, paperclips and of course the all important supply of toilet paper and how grateful I'm sure they all were.

It may have been boring and sure as the emperors shiny balls it didn't bring any form of benefits but it suited me just fine as anything beat having an ork forcing his boot up your nose or having the unfortunate luck of having a Tau crises suit land on top of you and making you into a nice puddle of pasty goo. True I had heard the stories of how much honour and glory one in the guard could achieve and if ,and it is a big if they some how manage to get the emperors all seeing eyes watch over them till the tanks roll home they could retire rather happily for the rest of their days in solitude which in my opinion also sounded like a rather good plan but alas I have this terminal illness know as 'nowayinhellimgonagetshotivitus'. And besides having a old geezer shout at me twenty four seven, eating slop and having to wake up before tucking into a bit of breaky never seemed like the high life to me. No im rather happy with this position im in….well was. Life has a strange way of never giving you a break it seems.

Aramain sat down in his office at the hours 8:30 listening for the pleasant ringing of the alarm to start working. He gave a small smile cracking his knuckles and placing his stationary neatly in front of himself. He heard the first bell toll and he then began his repetitive stamping and signing duties with mindless abandon. He wasn't a strongly built man probably another reason why he never entered the guards life. He was of slender build tall and lanky almost as if he was a upright standing ape. His jaw was sharp and clean, his eyes small and somewhat weasely and his hair straight but held the feel of the tiredness. He wore the traditional uniform of Administratium. Fine robes of grey patterned with chequered wrists and hood, badges of office of course and the compulsory quill which no one ever used.

He opened his ink pad and a small container which held the wax for sealing the documents along side the black ring his held the symbol of the Administratium itself. He must of only stamped a few documents before Galdy came in.

Glady was an elderly women with very white hair and skin which looked as if it had been stretched over a sheet of steel, in other words she had pretty flat features. She too wore a similar uniform and as always in time she brought Aramain his tea, hot but not boiling and with just the right amount of caffeine.

"Thank you Glady" he smiled happily life was just superb for him, although her face said otherwise. He looked at her for a moment to notice her expression before asking what was wrong in his normal well spoken manner.

"Lord Melch wishes to speak to you".

He made his way down the long bland corridors of the office block. The entire way was covered with concrete blocks and a few servitors mercilessly cleaning and polishing the walls and floors. He always had a certain pet hate for the mindless machine men. Maybe it was the way how they had their 'upgrades' bore right into them or perhaps it was the expression of suffering that they held deep within. Either one they gave him the willies and he felt much more comfortable if they were buried under several ft of sand which had been covered with concrete then landing a very big bunker right on top of it right after having them turned off.

Lord Melch is the master of the Administratium's of Geddi prime. He was a powerfully built man broad of shoulder and a face that told of conflict. He had a bushy beard which often appeared well groomed almost yet ecstatic. He was once an imperial officer who fought in the war of Armageddon against the greenskin hordes. And by appearance no one would question that he weren't there. He was a veteran of the ash wastes yet how he managed to land a job ordering stockpiles and laying about alluded him. There were rumours that he was friends with a higher power but this was never thought on. He was lord and master and his word meant that directly from the emperor no matter how trivial it was.

He came to the end of the corridor the lords office just in front of him. Even this was decorated to show his power. It was gold trimmed and a stain glass depicted the emperor being guarded by angels from Terra itself.

As he entered he noticed how luxurious the place was. It may have not been noble like but the fact he had a drinks cabinet, an ornamental paper weight and of course his exquisite door made him clearly stand out from all the rest. "Ah Aramain" he welcomed he always spoke with a bellowing cheery voice "I trust you are well"?

He knew this was merely informal he never truly cared if he was well or not but it showed that he was being polite unlike many employers in the imperium. "Yes sir very well" he replied.

Melch nodded with a smile then quickly read through a few notes before stamping and signing them. Even in dire circumstances the man was known to always have finished the job regardless of what went on. "Now then" he began "I have some very good news for you, I am herby to have you replaced as are assistant administrator and you shall be moved up the chain of are wonderful empire".

Aramain wasn't sure how to accept this. Did he mean that he was to be promoted? Such things were rare within the organisation and even unheard of. The next step up was to be the dogsbody of his lordship. This meant even more menial tasks and by the emperors love a much safer position. He final cracked a smile showing his perfect teeth. "Oh thank you sire he gratefully cried I promise I will be the best that I can, I will accompany and deliver my full service".

"I'm so glad your overwhelmed" Melch said a small happy chuckle escaped his mouth "I know its always been your dream yet I wasn't sure how you would fair".

"Oh you know sir" Aramain smirked his eyes nearly in tears of excitement "I've always wanted to do my part for our grand empire.".

"I know you have" Melch smiled. "Oh that reminds me to introduce your new commander".

Commander? That was a strange name for a superior if anything it was a military title.

Still he couldn't believe his luck. A few years he had been pushing pens in the safety of a planet that held as much strategic value and appeal as a aardvark that had lost its interest in its career. Now he was to be the man who would serve the most important and perhaps second most powerful man on the planet next to the governor. Life didn't get much better then this.

The lord pressed on the intercom and asked his sectary to bring in Commissar Valentine………

Commissar?

Suddenly a tall well built man not unlike Lord Melch came through the door. He wore many scares across his face leaving few features on him. One eye had been cut out and replaced with a bionic enhancement a red glowing eye which seemed to draw all in its gaze. He wore the official outfit of the Schola Progenium not to mention ceremonial sword and las-pistol, both of which he was stoking rather comfortably.

"This is my good friend Commissar Valentine, he was my right hand man and saved my life many a time. I'm sure you will learn much from him".

The commissar turned his head slowly looking at Aramain and smiled a cruel crocodile smile. "Welcome to the imperial guard private Aramain" he stated his voice hissed. He was by sound alone an evil man.

All Aramain could do was stand there in shock. He tried to stutter something but lord Melch merely butted in.

"You want to thank me I know" he smiled again "you've always wanted to join the men up there in the star fighting the horrors doing your part for mother Terra and are father the Emperor" he said whilst marking the sign of the insignia on his chest. "You've been here many a year now and you've served me greatly and have done me proud, but now it is time for you to leave and go to your destiny".

So Aramain began his voice giving away his frightened mind "your not making me your dogsbody"?

"Nooooooooo".

"I'm joining the guard"?

"Yeeeeeeees".

"I don't remember saying you could quit private"! the drill sergeant shouted directly into Aramains ear. It ringed for a while before he could actually feel the saliva dripping from within. He had been at the encampment for nearly a month now and he could barely do one hundred sit ups. He couldn't believe his luck of all the possible promotions, of all the possible ways to spite him this had to be the worst. It is in fact on his planet anyway for guardsmen to be viewed as the highest form of honour. Why he hadn't seen this was beyond him. When he was first inducted into the ranks of the emperors hammer he was evaluated as 'bullet fodder' and suffice to say he wasn't popular with the other guardsmen either. Compared to them he was sickly and undernourished which meant he'd be the first to be shot and not necessarily by the enemy. True he may have told the Lord a few tall tales about dreams of joining the guard but they were merely to impress him and keep him on his good side. Not to throw him into the thick of it. He had just been lucky to not have been the butt of the jokes around the place although he could feel a certain special hatred for himself was resided.

The sergeant quickly moved on his voice still drumming in his ears however. "A guardsman must not tolerate indiscipline, ill skill nor even faith wavering". "He must have an iron will, a body of steel and a heart that was blessed by the emperor himself". "You on the other hand Aramain are a little snivelling girl who has about as much faith and discipline as a shit rats honeymoon outing"! "Id rather have you shot but the commissar has given you special treatment….for now". He said the last part with a hint of grudging annoyance. He hadn't liked him from the start and like everyone else he always saw him shooting him in the back when no one was watching.

In all honesty the entire ordeal thus far hadn't been entirely unpleasant. He enjoyed much of the fresh air and time he was given to study in the barracks library. They were all books on tactics and historical battles but in a way they made him a better solider. True his free time was often accompanied by continuous missiles of rocks and appalling language but at least the majority of it wasn't aimed at him. And the commissar always had his back no matter what the problem. It was Valentine alone who kept the drill sergeant from being over zealous in his work. It was also he who encouraged Aramain to study in the barracks library on war. He must of took Lord Melch's words to heart. He was his protector and tutor in this time of burden. In a sense he was his only friend.

"Right now you yellow bellied pieces of ork crap! Of to the firing range"!

The firing range was another one of those little parts he enjoyed at the encampment. He was one of the finer marksmen in the barracks and could very well hit all his target s in all the killing places. He had merely been there a month and already he was pretty confident he could stay slightly more alive. That being so long as he didn't get a sword shoved through his chest. The others didn't think too much into how to aim or how fast the wind current was going nor the rate of their breathing. To him it was natural. To them……well that was better left unsaid. Thinking wasn't something the guardsmen were meant to excel at apparently.

He brought the las-gun to his shoulder making sure the tip was weighted correctly to his standard. He needed to make sure that it didn't waver to how he used it. His breathing paced he kept his sight tight. His finger just touching the trigger readying to fire….

"So I see your training at your usual standard".

He fired prematurely the bolt flying off merely blasting a chunk out of the wall. He turned his head slowly meeting the eyes of commissar Valentine. The old veteran gave a devilish smile his one good eye narrowed and all watching. "I hear your quite the marksman, I wish the same could be said for your survivability".

"I know sir" Aramain responded his voice as ever quivering under pressure in front of superiors. Even in the relative safety of the commissar his voice always made him uneasy. Words just slide out of his tongue and seemed to spit with venom.

"I have a proposition for you". "One that I know you will be more then adequate at accomplishing".

A proposition in the guard wasn't something you turned down. If anything you had to embrace it with open arms and care of it like an inquisitors golden toilet seat.

"Alright on my mark Aramain get into position on the hill top make sure your cameo is properly secured then wait for the signal to take him out".

Aramain quickly hurried through the outcrops and trees making his way to his destination. It was exciting to be part of the scout unit. Not only did it mean that he got to keep away from the action it also meant he would actually gain some respect from his peers a feat that would not go unused. Maybe It was commissar Valentine's judging that gave him this opportunity or perhaps just his sympathy. Either one it was his doing that got him this cushy job and it was his doing that kept him active and safe. He doubted it was sympathy however commissars weren't known for their acts of random kindness. They are a pillar of which the men are to stand against. A pillar many would rather crumble, true commissars were notoriously unpopular and they had a tendency to shoot commanding officers for no apparent reason. Most say they did this in order to take command themselves but such thoughts were surely foolish. No one would surely try to use their power and influence to commandeer a place of command within the imperium would they?

He placed himself just behind the hilltop rifle placed and scope readily around his eye. The basic drone servitor was placed going about doing its duties. He felt a slight tinge of enjoyment as the signal was given and he blew the techno mans head apart. This was a lot better then burying them.

Maybe life here wouldn't be so bad after all…..

"Today is the day that you will finally show the emperor your devotion and give him your service through life" the Militant General bellowed "you are the 5th regiment of Geddi prime and it is on the soil of this planet that you will be baptised as soldiers of the imperium".

Aramain sat silently listening to each word the old veteran spoke. The others were merely partically listening or too involved in their own worlds. Not that it was expected many to survive. The average life expectancy of a guardsman on his first campaign was fifteen hours tops. Once you past that it was assumed to be easy sailing. Not that meant much when you were in the guard. With all the horrors and xenos that existed throughout the galaxy one could never expect to know what they faced. Each day meant a new disaster and blight.

He quietly light his Iho stick puffing a few times to make sure it lit before inhaling the contents. It was a nasty habit but the smooth feeling and flavour made things that much easier for him. They were free too which was also a bonus. If anything his prediction of being accepted had fallen like a lead balloon. Being put on to scout squad made them hate him even more since he wouldn't be up there fighting with the 'real' men. And with the commissar now still on planet side and he stuck on this rust bucket of a battleship they had all the time they needed to mock and pick on him. Having your head stuck down the urinal whilst it had yet to be cleaned gave him the idea to start up his dirty habit. Maybe if he got killed by these first he wouldn't have to put up with the rest of this hell. He listened for a while longer whilst the old man rambled on about minor details until he finally opened his ears fullest to hear the important part.

"We are on are way to the industrial world of Colbana". "You can expect heavy smog and rain with very little in the way of sunshine". "Colbana is essential to our system defences for it alone supplies us with the weapons and munitions distribution for the entire sector". "Your foe for this conflict are the rebel PDF of the governors acclaimed Serpent Guardians". "Keep In mind that though their name bears status they are no match for true guardsmen". "You will have no need for vehicle transport nor will artillery be required". "The heavy weapons teams that you bring will be enough alone". "They have no territory so to speak" he waved his hand over the 3d map hologram in front of him as it showed what appeared to be a building covered by walls and towers "the governors mansion works as their barracks, base of operations and supply port". "To be able to break through the defences of the perimeter it is a simple matter of attrition". "There will be losses there is no doubt all wars bear the risk of casualties, but if you truly believe in are holy father the emperor then you shall be spared". "Now I know you've all heard the rumours" he rumbled clear annoyance filled his words "that there are mutants on the world". "I assure you now that chaos has not touched the world". "There are no records of the influence nor has was it ever visited during the great betrayal". "There are high levels of radiation as you should know but in no way has it affect life in such a way". He finish it with a huff and puff it was clearly a trivial matter he wanted out of the way. "Use your heavy weapons to your advantage and may your faith hold you firm". "Good luck gentlemen and may the emperor be with you".

"Drop pod launch in minus five minutes" the vox caster blared out followed by the usual 'a man who puts his trust in luck is a fool, the wise man puts his trust in the Emperor' and 'get in now or I'll have you shot'. This was it, this was the moment his few months of training had prepared him for. He was going to be in the thick of it, fighting those who stray from the emperors light, those who aren't worthy, and those who are necessary to wipe out in order for the warlords to move their desks a few inches further.

He hurried through the chaos of bodies rushing past all eager it seemed to engage in some action. This would be all of their first battle, their first campaign to bring another world to the fray.

As he ran in to his designated pod strapped himself in and watched as the others gave him ugly faces he had to admit that he was scared. This WAS his greatest fear. He never wanted it to get this far but he knew all along that there was no escape. Once you joined you joined there was no leaving less it be with a hole in your head. To begin with he thought back to the days when he was sound and safe where there were no troubles back on his insignificant agricultural green ball of a safe zone. But as the days went by he knew that was foolish. He had a new and most probably short life now in the guard and he had to make the most of it.

This was it the final and most likely gruesome part of his life.

War……………….

Commander Valko sat on his command throne. With a stiff upper lip and a glass of rare molo ale in his clutches he tirelessly began to make himself bored. His favourite pass time. Ordering people around was always a nuisances but someone had to have the job an it made it all the easier when he reminded himself that they aren't people like him they're fodder and fuel to use to make his ship move.

He picked up one of the data files in front of him whilst inhaling the strong rich flavour of the spirit. It tingled his nose and made it feel as if the veins in his nostrils were going to inflate and explode covering his face with red matter. That meant it was some good beverage.

He scanned the contents of the file effortlessly much more infatuated with his drink then the matters of the empire. However one note did bring him to attention and an old wiry smile sweeped across his sagged features.

"So its time for the proving grounds to be put into use ey? Those gear heads better get of my back for this".

Colbana was in fact a military facility entirely made for the purpose of training guardsmen in action. The enemies were real enough as were the weapons and battles that happened. But because there existed a never ending war it made the perfect world for the purpose of finding out who had the metal to be a solider of the imperium.

With no signs of foes even in range of the scanners of decades there was no chance of it being attacked and thus the perfection of opportunities. The whole point of the armada being position there was because, of course, he, Commander Valko had been assigned to over see the construction of the 'proving grounds' for over twenty years.

As far as anyone actually knew the world was infested with scum and criminals who were armed with nothing more then bits of wood and themselves. The world was simply left to its own accord.

The forces who reached planet side would be left there for a good few months. Whoever survived would then be placed into a 'real' regiment and finally sent of to a real war.

It may have not been the best idea but it was the best the gear heads could come up with to not dispose of a world that had been swamped with radiation.

A world was a world no matter how insignificant. A world meant territory, a world meant wealth and a world meant I'm better then you.

"Lord commander" a voice spoke through the vox caster nest to his desk "we are sensing weaponry from the planets surface preparing to open fire".

"Open fire"?! Valko's voice slightly broke "how can that be? There aren't any anti air weapons on the surface"?!

"Sir the computers have been blessed recently so its unlikely the signals are inaccurate".

Things were about to get interesting……….


	2. Chapter 2

The drop of the pods hit the surface like bolts of lighting relentless and earthshaking. Aramain vomited slightly over his once sharp clean uniform which now had specks of ration bars over it. A few sniggers could be heard through out the pod echoing till the sergeant began blurting out orders. Immediately after every trooper onboard jumped out of the seats weapons in hand trotting out of the exit prepared to face whatever foe there was. Aramain managed after some hardship to stumble out of the pod holding his gut before releasing more bile when he noticed something. The one thing in war you feared the most. Silence. There wasn't any noise. No sound of gun fire or roar of combat. No tanks rolling or blades clashing. It was dead.

A couple of the men began voicing annoyance to their nearest comrades the stress already getting to them like a group of young orks who hadn't had enough to kick around.

"Alright maggots back in order" the sergeant an elderly veteran not unlike the one back at the training grounds. "I want a perimeter around the landing site, have any one with a heavy weapon stand guard with at least three men accompanying". He turned to face them watching them round up and disperse to their orders. All except Aramain that was. You scout he yelled "go and find a vantage point I need you to survey the surrounding area, I don't need anyone sneaking up on us".

Aramain quickly lit an Iho before moving onwards. He was starting to hate everything in his life.

He slung his rifle of his shoulder in to his arms clipping the safety off before setting the power to low.

He did it all in regimental timing. He may have been forced into a hell hole but he was willing to make the best of it and that meant impeccable skill and timing. He climbed up the hill then sat himself down behind a mound. He had no intention of covering their arses and was all too happy to have a trip to the land of nod. It was just as he closed his eyes he heard the first sounds of battle. Of a comrade being opened up.

Blood curdling and screams screeched out to the atmosphere. Aramain's eyes suddenly opened wide and deep. Everything he had learned soon became defunct as he began fumbling with his weapon forgetting that he had turned the safety off and activated the power cell instead reactivating it several times on the wrong settings and breaking the safety catch. He could hear bursts of gun fire, the bolts of las fire and heavy stubbers ringing over the horrid sound of death and torture.

He stumbled over to the site, no intention of helping he hide slightly behind the mound watching.

He couldn't quite see what was happening and the noises of pain and fighting blacked out any informative talk. He did the only thing he knew how to do with immediate effect.

He ran like there was a buzzer squig on his arse.

Throwing down his rifle he sped off towards the blood sun hoping that whatever was slaughtering his team over there wasn't gonna want to follow him later. He figured he didn't get far till he tripped over what must have been a comrades head. Whatever it was it was squeegee and bleeding a lot.

He simply laid where he fell the shock of everything had got to him. He was on a world that he didn't want to be on and in a place of mind he dared not invoke. But he was there and it wasn't going to leave him. If there really was an Emperor he was going to be merciful and let him die quickly less he find himself as a new sex toy for some mutated bloated man who has the face and breath of a hairless dog.

If there was an Emperor he had no intention of giving him an easy ride out.

He could hear footsteps, heavy footsteps. The kind that belonged to a man who ate his breakfast every morning and who's diet consisted of cow, cow and more cow. It wasn't long before he could smell the man. The faint fragrance of manure and rotting meant were persistent and gag worthy but being a master of cowardice and subtlety he knew how to keep things under and how to play dead when necessary (and unnecessary a lot of the time). Even the sound of him was strange. He or it as he was beginning to consider him made clicking sounds and grunts. It could have been that they were on a feral world but the imperium never settles on those worlds less they disturb the technological cycle of that planet. Whoever or whatever it was must of believed he was dead because it began prodding him with a stick in various tender regions. He could hear it salivate which meant one thing. It considered him dinner. Before he could cry out the emperors holy name a splatter of gore spilled on the back if his head followed by a thud that must of accompanied the things body. He didn't bother to get up he just allowed whoever it was that killed his chef to drag him away and away was going pretty fast.

Sion began barking orders to every side and angle he could. His throat began to hurt and felt dry but still he kept on knowing that if no one was prepared then there would be no respite. The muties had been stirring trouble again. It doesn't take much to hear their guttural laughing or crude weapons clanking and tearing unsuspecting foes apart. The muties were normally somewhat passive except for two circumstances. One the 'governor' had unleashed his personal forces to test them again or two there were new arrivals on this hell of theirs. And since he hadn't heard the sound of basilisk cannons or hell guns fire it had to be the latter and it was a foul and depraved choice they would now lead. Death wasn't the worst part not by a long shot.

He watched as the men and women hastily built up barricades of whatever they could muster. Planks, steel sheets, decaying wagons and even clumps of sludge were all thrown into a crude yet sturdy barrier.

He stared at each one of them observing their predictable nature. Each one was checking and rechecking the ammo clips and shells they had loaded, making sure the gun was in working order and making last checks to the barricades and camouflage they and smeared over themselves.

These were never easy. They were simple but never easy.

Sion turned his head to the patter of heavy feet. The smell of sweat and musk could only mean Hefter had returned from placing the kill zone markers. Hefter was a round heavily built man with bad hair and a poor case of hygiene. In fact he was so bad that everyone in the resistance would only speak to him at arms length less they contract some sort of diseases or plague from him. Still he was useful in that he was one of few people with little to no brain cells in that he would do pretty much anything that was asked of him. To call him brave would make you an idiot. To call him an idiot would mean you liked point out the obvious. He was huffing and puffing as usual sweat dripping of his face, his cheeks glowing red from running the small way he came and his hair was even more tangled then before.

Sion praised him for his work before he could speak . He'd rather not have spittle over his recently washed vest. Hefter quickly ran off to position grabbing one of the stub guns and getting into place.

Sion himself brought his rifle to aim. The kill point weren't as clearly marked as he had hoped but he didn't expect much coming from Hefter.

Now fire and blood would begin to flow.

The first few muties came into view waving clubs and raw looking cleavers coupled with a cross bow slung on their backs. He remembered when he first fought them roughly ten years ago and they were only armed with sticks and foul language. Whilst it was slow at first and primitive by his standards they had began to bring different and better weapons to their battles and also started to use other mutations. It was like someone was helping them get smarter more attuned to the situation. Whatever it is he knew these things were scum and as one of the few representatives of the emperor left faithful on this dead world he would deliver his wrath and watch them fall before him. He grabbed the rosary round his neck and marked on his forehead the sign of the imperium. The first one barely got within a few metres before the stubbers began hailing upon them. The first wave were easily torn apart by the heavy fire power with the second wave being thinned out by sniper fire. They were using bolt action models. Powerful but slow firing. The muties may be primitive but they were much ahead it seemed. When they were first positioned on the planet nearly all of their power cells died and the constant raids from the muties meant they had to improvise and adapt constantly to stay in league. All las rifles were modified to be stubbers and any power cells that remained were used as an emergency power supply. It weren't easy ,none of it, but they overcame the problems and they weren't about to be pushed back just yet. Sion slowed his breathing keeping his mind on the battle at hand. Perhaps it was skill or faith but Sion wasn't a leader for nothing. Apart from a loud voice he was an excellent sharp shooter and was one of the few who remained from the original regiment sent to 'test' the mechanicus experiment. Ten years ago that was and still no word. His mind was suddenly wrought when he heard the familiar sound of a bolt hitting home. Hefter had taken a crossbow bolt to the chest and he began screaming childishly and the barbed spearhead twisted his frame. He mentally cursed the muties before hitting one right between the eyes smiling as the back of its head exploded with black thick blood. He quickly left his position to see to Hefter. He was dead. His eyes now dilute and placid and his annoying heavy breathing ceased. Damn it he muttered was hoping to keep my record. A bolt embedded just under his foot making him hastily fire in the foes direction. They had started firing rather then charging mindlessly. They weren't the best shots not by a long way but they did get lucky as he had just seen. He only had to hold out a little longer then he knew they would stop. They'd get bored of dying and retreat to their strongholds where they would begin converting. Converting…..a sentence worse then death.

It may have been weird but this was the most relaxing time Aramain was having in a long time. Being dragged by a group of blood drinking maniacs that would most likely rape him and use his hide as a hammock was more unwinding then having to bunk on the battleship with a dozen sweaty grunts who's habits involved obvious self pleasuring and excess bodily functions. Still he needed to figure a way out of this and preferably before they added him to the hotpot. The fact that he was playing dead which meant keeping his eyes closed at all times did make efforts more difficult and that he had thrown away his only weapon meant he no longer was capable of defending himself properly. Suddenly he was dropped in the dirt and whoever was dragging him before had left and ran off. That was a moment he opened his eyes. There weren't any aliens or cannibals like he thought but there was a lot of blood. He saw a group of humans not marked as imperials were firing in at another group. He couldn't quite make out who or what they were but he had no intention to find out. He swung around to get away when a knock to the head put him unconscious. This was just getting better and better.

He woke up again this time in what he guessed was a bunker. His vision was slightly blurred, no doubt from the knock on the head but he could make out his surrounding. Concrete walls and floors, all grey and not decorated. The bed he laid on was a regular military grade one. Hard surface and no sheeting. You were expect to sleep with your equipment with you at all times awaiting to be called to arms.

His vision adjusted more now and he could make out someone coming through a doorway to the room. The footsteps were soft and clapped as if the wearers boots did not quite fit him. He rushed his head side to side to see if he could grab on to anything as a way of self defence still trusting his cowardly instincts that they weren't going to be friendly. The only thing he saw that was worth using was his own boots which laid just on the right side of the steel bed. The person came in finally. A woman he was surprised to see. She had rough but charming features almost like she had once been considered exceptionally beautiful but the harsh environment and lifestyle had taken effect very quickly or perhaps just over a long time. His examination of her footsteps had been correct. Her boots did not fit her at all. They must have been a size too big. They were worn and rugged as if they were the only thing she had ever worn. She wore a standard guards vest which was also torn with a few stains of what appeared to be soot blotched here and there. Baggy cameo trousers and dog tags were all that were left unblemished. She stared at him blankly, her short dark shaven head tilted slightly as if inspecting him like a butcher would do to a piece of fine meat. Her expressionless face soon crept a tight smile and a small laugh followed it. "Err I think if you were serious about harming me you'd have found that the chair on the left would have made a more suitable weapon". He hadn't noticed that he was holding his boot, caked in mud and grime which had hardened was high above his head. He gave a sheepish laugh before slowly and clumsily placing back next to the other. Her face quickly returned to how it was and asked in him a calm yet harsh manner to follow him. "The captain wants to see you".

Sion hastily washed the blood from his clothing. It had been a tough battle and a costly one as well. He lost well over half his unit in that fire fight not to mention their mark boy Hefter. There were simply too many of them and they were using more weaponry then usual. Most only carried clubs or spears but these were using crossbows. While it wasn't unknown for a few tribes to have firearms of its kind it was never known to have them in such huge numbers. He had his officers report in. They had lost forty men today through skirmishes and defences. He hadn't taken quite a big loss before and it unnerved him. There was an obvious change in the muties fights and even culture. He remembered some years ago when they were like troglodytes. Barbaric primitives. Cave people even. They only used grunts or gestures as forms of communication and simple tools such as stone hammers. Now they were using actually speech and making metal tools and even advanced weapons, at least form their point of view. It was also normal for a few tribes to be able to tame the wildlife. Most others would have been eaten or mauled by the creatures mutated from the poisonous ozone yet now they were common in their forces. He had ideas but nothing to prove on and it was a daunting thought. Were the tribes uniting? Were they getting smarter? Or was someone supplying them with weapons?

It may have sounded crazy but he could think of any other explanation.

He heard the foot steps long before the newcomer knocked on the wall outside his office. He finished his cleaning quickly before telling him to enter.

He saw the young man come through and the only thing that went through his mind was office boy. He would never know how right he was. While all the other guardsmen were at least seeming capable this man was very small and pale in comparison.

He had well kept facial hair and finely cut crew top. He looked like a typical officer or lord general of the guard but he wasn't surprised to find out he was nothing more then a private.

"Where you from boy"? He asked in a typical southern accent that was local of his old home world.

"I came from Geddi prime" Aramain replied his voice spoke softly with a nervous edge it's a simple "agricultural world, highly unimportant in the grand empire".

Sion wasn't even making eye contact with him. His eyes were hooked onto the ceiling watching the fan spin round slowly. It had almost rough grace to it. He could see every speck of dust fall and then float up again from the drafts. "What was your previous occupation prior to joining the guard" he then asked his voice dark and intimidating. He only wanted those who he could make use of. He had no use for deadweight which is what he considered Aramain to be. Aramain opened his mouth to answer licking his lips firstly but then paused his eyes squinting. "How about I ask you some questions now"? While he said it in a polite manner there was no doubt he was telling Sion not asking. The commander gave a tight smile and gestured for him to be seated on the timid looking bar stool. Grandeur wasn't exactly in mass proportions inside the underground bunker. He then gestured again saying in silence 'ask away'.

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Where am I?"

"Your in hell" Sion answered a brash smile crossed his face before going into a grim demeanour. "Your on the world the imperium sent you to, you've not been wayward trust me".

"Next question". "Who are you people?"

"Where the survivors" he replied his face still showed nothing "the ones who were unfortunate not to die or join the muties".

Ok things were making sense…..some how. Every answer was cryptic almost.

"What are muties?"

Sion stared at him differently this time. His eyes seemed to tighten and his posture became stiffen then relaxed. He moved his hand to a draw on his desk without looking pulled the old wooden draw open and produced from it two metal mugs which he chucked down aggressively, then carefully reached in again and brought grasped only by his finger tips a glass, dusty bottle, of armasac. He sat this down gently and released each fingertip a few seconds in between. Whether this as because he had become accustomed to the alcohol as a best friend (which no doubt in any soldiers position it would have, a pleasing affect is what you need when you've had people shoot at you all day) or because it was simply made of glass and didn't want to create a mess he wasn't sure, but it was clear that it meant he was ready for a serious talk.

Aramain wasn't a drinker. In fact he had never touched anything that hadn't been watered down first and then placed in a scanner to insure he wouldn't be poisoned.

But at this moment in time it was either drink and try not to vomit so you can still use your head in the morning or refuse and not be able to use it. And he liked his head how it was.

The scared veteran poured the liquor into the mugs. The liquid rattled against the tin like a small tide crashing on a beach. Aramain quickly swallowed the beverage hoping to pass the taste before his body decided against it. However he was pleasantly surprised how enjoyable it was. The taste wasn't great but it left a good feeling inside of him and even seem to wake his brain up a little.

What were you informed of when you made planet side?

Aramain started to explain when Sion interrupted him. "Let me guess, you were told that this was to be your baptism of fire?" "That a governor had gone rouge and it was your job to take care of him, that he wouldn't a match for a true guardsmen?" "That there was no taint of chaos on the planet and that you had nothing to fear?"

Aramain merely nodded. "Its not entirely true" Sion continued "there is a rouge governor but there is corruption, and a few units of guard aren't going to solve the problem".

"No one knows anything for sure, only stories that have been put together over the years". "When the imperium first found this world it was a gas giant rich in mineral wealth, the world itself held only basic life forms so it was no problem going down and then back with materials and mining tools".

"However when they began harvesting the ores and minerals they discovered that the substances weren't of any actual use, they were just rocks or sludge that held no value". "Before they left however the miners and other personnel who had made planet side during the production fell ill". "It was said that the apothecaries slaved day and night to find out what was wrong but couldn't find anything". "By the time they did make progress they too fell to the sickness.".

"What was wrong with them?" Aramain asked his voice slightly croaked but defiantly interested.

"The sickness varied from each person, most had bleached or skin that began to grow scales". "Some would lose eyes by having skin covering the area and some grew large slabs of muscle tissue at an accelerated rate". "They didn't seem to be in any pain and they knew for sure that there was no taint, chaos had never been to that world not even during the heresy.".

He stopped momentarily taking a sip from his cup leaving Aramain to soak in the ridiculous story. His face showed only intrigue. Perhaps he was willing to believe anything at this point. Perhaps he needed something to believe in. Or perhaps he had simply gone insane like so many he had seen before him.

"So what was it then?"

Sion brought his face level to Aramain's his eyes meeting his, it was another silent gesture asking for him to be ready. "They were mutating, their genetic structure was being altered right inside of them in an uncontrolled manner". "The theory is that the ores and minerals they were mining were actually a sort of bio weapon". "It was used to increase someone's body to the likes of a super solider if you will".

"But then why was it all over a planet and not concealed in a lab somewhere?" Aramain asked his voice and expression now showed that he was beginning to become sceptical and that Sion was just trying to make him a fool.

"Whose to know?" Sion replied his mood still the same "perhaps the race that created it became addicted to it like a drug and destroyed themselves?" "Perhaps the compound had volatile qualities and it wiped them out?" "All I'm trying to do is give you an explanation of the situation that your going to be in for a very long time".

Aramain blinked several times before asking for him to continue.

"Kobal was quarantined, all the inhabitants were kept on world by a small fleet of cruisers and fighters". "Most wouldn't of had a problem with taking them on but the people who were infected were merely scientists and miners/labourers, they weren't built for war especially not in their condition".

"The imperium was late as usual in investigating the incident , they sent down a transport with members from the inquisition and mechanicus". "By the time they arrived the 'infected' had become use to their transformations". "They lived their life's as normal at first but as the years went by they eventually lost all knowledge of who their ancestors were and reverted to tribal behaviour".

"Anyway they saw an opportunity here., rather then turn this world to glass and ash why not use it"? "The mechanicus decided (with much argument on the inquisitions side) that this world could be used as a staging ground for soldiers in training". "It would ensure that only the best made it into the proper regiments".

Aramain sat still again his face hadn't changed the whole time he had been there. He poured himself another glass. Sion would have striked another man for touching his only 'escape' but he felt something in this one. Potential or faith there was something it just needed to be awakened.

He gulped it down greedily and then stared back at Sions cold eyes. "If this happened all that time ago how do you know about it? you've not been on this world that long".

Sion merely smiled a little. How he knew how long he'd been here he didn't know. Perhaps he had good observation skills? There was more to him then met the eye. He was useful.

He then brought back his eyes to his barred his teeth into what he thought was his best smile. "The previous commander told me"……

Governor Jeremiah 'Anaconda' Isaac watched from his command throne inside his personal chimera transport unit. He wore a pristine white robe (not too unfamiliar to that of a priest) which entailed a snake pattern on the shoulders. On his chest was the medal that dictated his position and by his side a ceremonial las-pistol, plated gold and decorated with the imperial eagle, that had barely seen service. His head was cleanly shaven and fine facial hair that could have been mistaken for stubble. The governor was known for many things. Being a despot, tyrant, entirely corrupted yet none of this mattered to his people as they all followed in his stride. They were as despicable and mind plagued as he was. His personal hobby of which he took great care to execute was hunting the mutants of the wastes. To him they were the best game. A cunning foe that quickly adapted to a situation and they learned easily from their mistakes. While he never hunted them down personally he got great pleasure from the reports and evidence of the kill teams that brought back trinkets and trophies of the hunts.

Still he began to tire of the repetitive nature of the game. Small skirmishes were all good but it never gave him the chance to show of his armed forces as he wanted.

Before the 'incident' of being stranded on this backwater dead world he was a crime lord. One of the more powerful leaders of the hive world Sargaris. Those were the days he craved. The days when he instilled fear and blight into the soul. His name was a curse and meant poverty. Then the Arbites discovered his base of operation and in a quick striking break in he was swarmed by them and his men all dead. He was to be sentenced to death for his long years of crime waves but instead the imperium found a much more suited purpose for the lowly hive scum. He became governor of Kobal the original name of the world and with great enthusiasm did as the occupation read. Rule with an iron fist and slaughter all that you care. And he did just that. When he first found the few scattered settlers in the only cultivated area he quickly enforced his persona and muscle into them. First killing the settlers chief with a quick snap of the neck and then beating the living warp out of a few of them before subjugating them. From there on he went to the next and then the next doing exactly as he had done to the first. Within months he had secured a ragtag army and a secure leadership. He had promised them in return for obedience he would keep them well and keep to that promise he did. By signalling the orbiting imperial vessel drop pods blundered down through the atmosphere. Some crushed a few travellers, others completely of course. Within them were supplies which consisted of rations, hygiene care, weapons and raw materials. Within the space of a few years and by occupying the ruins of the once great city of Magabourna he had done as he was told. He had built a faction.

Every so often he would be given different orders. Most were unusual. Such as parlaying with the mutants and handing over blueprints or part knowledge to them. Why the imperium would want these creatures to improve themselves was beyond him but that's not what he was being kept alive for nor given a wealthy, if somewhat depressing future. He had witnessed in his fifteen years of 'service' the rise of those things. They were nothing but cave creatures to begin with, now they used (although primitive) water pumps, hydro dams, farming, few basic industrial factories and tools. He had heard rumours that the muties themselves were advancing without need of his aid. He mocked the implications that they were capable of acting upon themselves and that they had a mind barely advanced enough to be able to contemplate construction and invention. Still whatever was going on he had been given what was known as his final act or as he liked to put it, his retirement plan. Apparently everything had paid of (whatever that meant) and now the final stages were to be accomplished. The muties had started to gather. They did this normally in family groups to the size of small tribes but there was one in particular. A clan was forming of hundreds of them all following one monstrous abomination. He had gathered them and had them over extensive periods of time great a ramshackle city. A haven for them. It was idiotic to believe that they were becoming cultured or even civilised but it seemed the big guys up stairs were wondering if more like this would begin to pop around the twisted globe. His final assignment was to engage a full scale attack upon them with the full might of his PDF forces.

He wouldn't deny that they were vastly out numbered nor that the muties had far more experience with full on attacks due to tribal warfare but he knew his serpent guard were better equipped then their deformed adversaries and that they would not be able to adjust to his tactics in time to create an effective counter attack. He thanked those above for the weapons at his disposal. Two full units of sentinels half armed with flamethrowers and the other auto cannons. Speed would be the first ploy to use. A quick strike to get them worked up, to make them panic. Chaos made easy prey. Alongside them yet slightly behind several chimera transports loaded with guardsmen would breach the city by access or force. While the enemy panic and attempted to defend themselves his soldiers would be already out of the vehicles and on the assault picking them of one by one. And last of all he had managed to scavenge a group of thud gun artillery. These were weapons not even in production on less productive worlds of the imperium and hadn't been in service for thousands of years. The were multi barrelled batteries that fired 50mm fragmentation 'spikes' use for long sieges. They would work well for making the entrance his chimeras needed. Once those phases were complete it was just a matter of everyone piling in and finishing the job. Today was going to be a good hunt.

They never saw the first sign only felt it. The entire city the only one of its kind had taken many years and lives to build was crumbling down within mere minutes like a rotted oak. The high stone walls bowed first then caved in the steel supports broke apart like matches. The women and children startled began to panic, naturally, and the men as clear minded as they could be hastily prepared themselves by strapping on flimsy armour and bearing whatever weapons they had by them. It didn't matter, they were already dead. They were not ready to face an army, not mentally anyway. Their battles were hunts and small skirmishes, war never came into it. Their bolts repelled of the chimeras armour and its treads crushed any foolish enough not to get out of harms way. Squirting noises could be heard as flesh met the earth underneath. But they still fought against the metal transports hoping to scare off the 'iron beasts' but their bravery merely met with lances of energized death. By the time the rest of them had made an 'organised' attempt the guardsmen had evacuated their transports and began shooting at anything that moved. Even women and children. No one was able to get a clear shot and no one had knowledge of this foe. Perhaps the gods wished to test them or perhaps someone had planned to attack them? The only thing that would answer them was annihilation and dark sleep would be their reward.

Isaac hoped out of his own moving transport, las-pistol gripped in a way it seemed more like an extension of his arm rather then a material thing. He didn't need to see the mutants aim for him he merely smelled them. He was a hunter and he knew his prey. He pulled the trigger once splattering the brains out of its head like a melon. A second he shot at the knee caps forcing it to fall putting its hands out to prevent itself from going completely. He then placed another shot at its head. He watched a group fired at him steel bolts tore through the air and ricochets of his carapace armour. Letting out a brief laugh he fired again this time the shots were crippling ones not intended to be fatal. Hits to the necks and joints brought them down to size screaming in pain and agony, crying out words that could only be considered names of gods. He turned his face slowly embracing the whole scene. Each monster was being slain by las-bolts and flame. The 'city' was burning to the ground like a dying star it would blaze bright, so brightly, and then snuff out as quick as it had been alive. This was not a battle. It was a hunt just as he had intended it to be. A hunt was always much easier and much more enjoyable if the prey was not aware it was being hunted.

The enemy was not as unprepared as they had thought. Just above the sky huge flying insects not unlike wasps flew towards the commotion. Each had a rider on top steering it forwards and keep the creature tame. Strapped to its sides were compartments that would drop crude but effective bombs. The serpent guard were in for a shock.

Trooper Patrick Wright fired another round into a passing woman (he assumed) watched as her left side got blown of in a puff of red dust and her entrails came spewing out. He never had so much fun. If he killed enough he would perhaps get paid a little extra and he could finally afford that apartment with the highborn as they were referred to. He had worked many years to save up a cache that big but soon it wouldn't matter anymore. Within seconds after that thought trooper Wright went up and out with a bang.

Isaac Looked up casually and saw the huge flies dart forth dropping their payload on his troops and vehicles. This was an unexpected development, he had known the 'things' to tame the wildlife but never had seen or heard them weapon-ize them. Then it was all within good timing. If he hadn't called for the attack no doubt they would have produced more and it would have made things unsavoury. He also hadn't noticed that the bombing run had given the mutants enough time to prepare a proper counter attack.

He quickly ran back to his transport when he noticed squads of the things dressed and armed properly. He managed to avoid the bolts and throwing knifes coming for him but even he couldn't anticipate an explosive bolt. It just missed him but impacted on his chimera tearing a hole the size of a soccer ball into it. This was going bad. Not only had they created a counter attack but they brought decent fire arms too. He jumped into the transport and ordered the crew to get him out of there with a thump on the drivers head. The man only flinched and didn't bother to hold his head knowing it would only be asking for another. Isaac tapped on his comm piece once and ordered a complete withdrawal but informed the siege units to continue firing and to fire the 'special' surprise at them.

Just as the serpent guard had retreated (not to mention took heavy losses) the united as they were known cheered in victory. Not only had they established a city made for them but they could also defended it. That was symbolic for their competence. But the celebration was short lived. From the outside, inside the troop carriers, it would have looked like a bloom of orange, an eerie yet beautiful site. From within the city is was an inferno and vision of hell.

"Give me a status report" Isaac commanded to his nearest subordinate. "The siege crew were caught in the uranium charge and the death toll is"…

"I asked for a report I don't need to be kept waiting from the number of sacrifices" Isaac moaned. Like he always taught them life was another form of tools and materials.

The aid coughed to clear his throat and then proceeded. "The entire settlement is in ruins". "We nearly wiped out the entire population but a few stragglers and those not occupying it at the time were spared".

"Key leaders were caught in the attack as well but its believed that a few may have escaped due to hunting parties".

"It doesn't matter" Isaac grinned swooping his hand under his cup and bringing it to his lips.

I love the smell of armasac in the morning he thought with bitter sweetness it smells like victory.

Grizgor stumbled into the old rustic bunker. It was buried deep beneath the surface of the world yet it built a blemish on its surface showing the few who knew of their existence where to find them. He was a united, or mutie as the humans liked to call them. To anyone else he was a massively grotesque being covered in rock like skin, twisted budging arms and a large outgrown head which almost appeared to have a horn protrude from the forehead. To his kind however he was a thing of beauty.

Just behind him followed his lieutenants. They too had various mutations but not to his extremes. Most of them held rather human features. One of them would have looked completely human but his bulbous bald head and pale complexion told otherwise. They all wore rags but with a similar colour scheme to define their allegiance. Grizgor nearly crashed onto a computer console but his subordinates quickly held him firm. He quickly forced them of however. He may have lost the battle but there would be many more to come and he had plenty of fight left in him. The serpent guard had won. His stronghold was ruined, his pride devastated, his reputation in shambles and his dignity desolate. Had the gods finally got sick of their favourite game? Did they not want their united to advance and prosper? He had always assumed the gods to be patient and caring. They sent them evidence of technology of beings beyond their understanding, proof that there was life beyond their little world. They had battled against the humans for many years using what they could to hold back the evil of steel. But with each passing fight they learned more and more of their foe and by learning and studying the gods sent them packages of arcane items. Weapons that could go further then any thrown spear with the power of a lighting bolt. Much they could not decipher or comprehend but the witch doctors and shaman of their clans proved to outdo themselves when they did unearth what little they could. Indeed they had began to discover explosives and better ways to forge armour but with the recent attack they did not have time to test them and all prototypes were most likely destroyed. The only thing they could do now was mutate and enhance their beasts and life stock, the tools they used before the gods enlightened them. But that would not be enough. They had no army, no resources and no base of operations. They were powerless…..but not beaten.

"Are clan has abandoned us" one spoke out disrupting the awkward silence "are magi weaponry and faith has failed us, are stronghold no more". Grizgor curled his lips into a toothy painful snarl slamming his fist into the console denting it showing his impressive strength to return order. "We are broken" he spoke his voice harsh but light "and you are all who have remained faithful to me". "At this very moment the humans are celebrating their victory, calling it the purging war" the bald one next spoke his voice whispery and sagely. "They have massacred us, stolen are home, yet they do not understand the meaning of it nor its symbol to us" he cried quietly almost as if he was telling it to himself. His eyes began to emit sparks of energy the copper stave he held onto pulsed with barely controlled power. He was a shaman and shaman wielded unusual powers. They were one of the more defining points to their war efforts, there only means of combating the machines the humans called tanks. But magic alone couldn't do the job. Shamans were more scientists then they were spiritual advisors or weapons but every united citizen did what they could to live in a harsh world. The united are no more, we are only a memory.

"That is what we shall have are enemies think" Grizgor spoke up again his voice tinged with bitterness and annoyance. He wasn't use to hearing his lieutenants resolve break. "But that is where they shall be gravely mistaken". He stood up properly now his massive frame stretched out into a most intimidating image. He smiled and spread his arms open. He had gone from war monger to now a father figure. He was a leader and he knew how to care for his people. "We are all that remain, but we are all that is necessary for we shall raise a grand army!" "Together we shall show this humanity that the down trodden and outcast who we are and who the real enemy is!" "The serpent guard promised to allow us prosperity and a new era of enlightenment, but in the slums and dying villages on the outskirts of this world the poor and hungry know the truth for they have been forgotten, left to bleed, they have nothing!" His voice now raised his a anger bubbled to a burst his word spat with venom. "They have nothing but their hate and anger! And we shall use that flame to ignite a fire of retribution that will start a great confederation!"

"Humanity…..shall….fall!!!!!!!!!!!"


End file.
